No Man's Land
by BlueDaze
Summary: An area of ambiguity.


Title: No Man's Land

Author: BlueDaze

Distribution: Cover Me, and anyone else just be sure to give credit where credit is due.

Spoilers: None that I could think of.

Summary: Ummm…Jack suffers from guilt. Yeah, yeah what else is new.

Note- No man's land is the land between two opposing and entrenched armies. It also means an area of ambiguity.

It was a simple unmarked grave embedded in the ground. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining like a blessing after the storm. It was one man who stood over the monument, staring down at it, wondering where it all went wrong.

Sydney. Death. 2003. 

That was it. No epithet or loving inscription. The grave was clean of betrayal; sterile of passion. It was just a block of pristine stone in the moist earth, hell you couldn't even tell if it was a female decomposing beneath the surface.

That was just what she had been reduced to: an inanimate thing in the ground who no one dared to mourn for. It was all very convenient the way the Agency managed to sweep her memory away. Completely detached of her humanity and all the pertinent facts about her life and some trivial details about her death tucked away in a manila folder somewhere left to collect dust. There was never a funeral service or memorial. Just a few brusque words out of Kendall's mouth ("_Her body was found in a warehouse") _and the nuance of relief in his voice as he said those words.

 He ordered the headstone but couldn't find it in himself to actually put down anything more. He, of all people, had no right to say anything about her life and even less to say about her death.

What was left to say of her death?  In his heart, he felt a deep sense of self-loathing. Even the flowers fisted in his hand seemed to make a mockery of his mourning.

He heard the dim sound of footsteps on the damp cemetery ground. He didn't have to turn to see who it was. 

They stood there in silence, both staring at the grave of the woman they loved. No leaves stirred, it was as though no breeze existed that day. The atmosphere had become a vacuum for all things living. Then he spoke.

"I know what you did," Michael Vaughn said in a low voice. He was doing his best to keep the hatred out because after all this was her father. But knowing what he did to her, it was impossible not to feel anything but the blinding need to hurt him. "I know you killed Sydney."

Jack swallowed and faced Vaughn, who looked so much older than his years. "I wouldn't expect you of all people to understand what I had to do."

"I don't need to understand a fucking thing except that you killed your daughter." There. The calm was gone, the truth was out, let the judgment begin. 

Jack wondered briefly if Vaughn was packing heat. "In the end, she couldn't even be called my daughter could she?"

"There was a chance. A chance that she could've been reformed. We could've brought her back if you'd only given us enough time…'

"Time we didn't have!" Jack nearly yelled, disturbing the eerie peace of the field. It was a possibility that would haunt him for the rest of his days. "Vaughn, she would've destroyed us all if I hadn't…"

There was no chance in hell he would've understood. He was young. He was in love, deeply so. When it all happened, when she was turned he held on to the sole hope that she would come back and be Sydney again. Everything went by so fast; events came with such rapidity that none of them really had time to process any of it. Sydney was gone, Sydney was evil, and then she was gone again. It may have been too much for him. But like the idealistic, hopelessly romantic person that he was, Vaughn still hoped.

But Jack had abandoned such hope the first time she killed in cold blood.

And then what happened in the warehouse when he came to the agonizing conclusion of what had to be done. To put an end to the nightmare and hope for some type of grim redemption in the ruins of his home. 

But Sydney-and that moment in the warehouse-offered him none.

`~`~`~`~`~`~`

Jack stared at the limp form he held in his arms. He could not even recognize it as being his daughter at one point in his life.

He tightened his fist around the injector gun in his hand. Do it quickly, he told himself. Don't make it more painful than it has to be. Slowly, he raised it to her neck.

Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned softly but did not awaken. Was that good or bad? As long as she stayed asleep, she would continue to wear that specious expression of innocence on her face. When she was awake it would be a completely different story.

It has to be done, he thought. His jaw clenched in unforgiving stoicism. No father should ever have to go through this agony. 

Her lips parted slightly as though her sleeping spirit was rousing herself just long enough to plead for clemency. 

You know. You know what has to be done. She's evil. She's wicked. She has no soul, or pity or remorse and if she knew what you were planning she would not hesitate to put you down. And then she would go after all the others. She won't be stopped. She's evil. She's wicked. She's…

Your daughter. And she was good once. So good and brave and loving before Sloane got a hold of her.

She's your daughter. She was your daughter. And you wonder if somewhere in her unconscious she remembers that. Most likely not. You pray feverishly that she does not. It would only make it harder. As though anything could make this easier.

Jack held the inoculation gun loaded with the lethal fluid to the part of her neck where the pulse beat in an unsuspecting calm rhythm. He hesitated. In some unknown distance, he thought he heard a young, girlish voice calling out to him.

"Daddy, Daddy where are you?" it called out, nostalgic from his conscience.

It was difficult to, impossible to reconcile the image of his young innocent child with the merciless assassin in his arms. But she was still his daughter.

Her eyes fluttered open. Something flickered within them when they focused on his face. 

"Daddy?" she uttered, weak. He couldn't remember suffering more than he did in that moment. There really was no right answer. Just the mantra "It has to be done it has to be done it has to be done," pounding ruthlessly through his brain.

Almost sobbing, he pulled the trigger on the injector gun. Everything shattered.

A spasm ran through her body, eyes widened with shock then pain. Her breath came in shallow gasps and she started to convulse as the poison ran its course. Swiftly, her body began to grow limp as the life dissolved within. That's it, sweetheart. Go to sleep and pray for us all.

Beg forgiveness because there is no greater sin in the world than a father murdering his own daughter.

As Sydney began to choke on her own breath, Jack realized in hindsight that all her acts, no matter how inhumane, were nothing compared to the euthanasia he had been forced to carry out.

Feeling her die, he whispered "There was nothing in this world that I loved more than you, Sydney. Nothing."

It appeared as though a brief light had illuminated her ashen face. Then her eyes became glassy as the form sagged in his arms, growing cold in seconds.

Jack Bristow held the lifeless vessel in his arms before releasing it with a thud to the dingy floor. Her vacant eyes, half-lidded, stared at him in accusation before adopting the bland expression of death.

`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

"I'll never forgive myself for what I did to her, Mr. Vaughn," Jack said. He glanced at Sydney's- his daughter, his victim- grave, almost in hope of some sort of reprieve.

The stone stayed silent in its judgment. 

_I'll never forgive myself __Sydney__. If that means anything to you._

Vaughn let out a broken sigh. "Good," he stated simply, a slight quiver in his voice. He stared at Jack, rage burning itself forever bright in his eyes. "Because I'll never forgive you either. The CIA still values you as an asset and will never let you go or seek justice against you-despite what you did."

He took a step forward and stared him in the face. "But you stole the one person-" voice cracked "-I would have given up everything to have been with." He spit out his last words in a deadly fury. "And I will find a way to avenge her."

With that bitter and solemn vow, Vaughn turned and walked away. With his dark duster flying from behind, he truly did look like an angel hell bent on vengeance.

And Jack could only watch and wonder when it would come.

He was only too ready to welcome it.

The End

Note: I'm not sure if I want to make this a companion to my other fic As You Were. I just think it might be a possibility as  to how Jack might react to this certain type of situation. I am actually still pondering the end of As You Were. 


End file.
